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French’s International Copyrighted (in England, her Col¬ 
onies, and the United States) Edition of the 
Works of the Best Authors 

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No. 425 


JUNK 

OR 


I PS 635 
f . Z9 
I S64833 
| Copy 1 


| One of Those Sunday Mornings 

= In One Act 


BY 

HENRY CLAPP SMITH 

Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French 


All Rights Reserved 

1 CAUTION. — Professionals anti amateurs are hereby 
warned that this play is fully copyrighted under th f 
existing- laws of the United States, and no on? 1? 
allowed to produce this play without first having 
obtained permission of Samuel French, 28 West JSit 
Street, New York City, U. S. A. 

Price 30 Cents 


New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 
Publisher 

28-30 West 38th Street 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
23 Southampton Street 
STRAND 










THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. 

The famous comedy in three acts, by Anne Warner. / males, 6 
females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2 l /[ hours. 

This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for “Aunt 
Mary,” “Jack,” her lively nephew; “Lucinda,” a New England an¬ 
cient maid of all work; “Jack’s” three chums; the Girl “Jack loves; 
“Joshua,”. Aunt Mary’s hired man, etc. 

“Aunt Mary” was played by May Robson in New York and on tour 
for over two years, and it is sure to be a big success wherever pro¬ 
duced. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents- 


MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 

A pleasing comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of 
“The Tailor-Made Man.” 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. 
Costumes modern. Plays 2)4 hours. 

Mr. Smith chose for his initial comedy the complications arising 
from the endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude 
peopled by hyphenated names—a theme permitting innumerable com¬ 
plications, according to the spirit of the writer. 

This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. 
Fiske with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. 


MRS. TEMPLE’S TELEGRAM. 

A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and Wil¬ 
liam Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands through¬ 
out the three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2/i. hours. 

“Mrs. Temple’s Telegram” is a sprightly farce in which there is 
an abundance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any ele¬ 
ment of offence. As noticed by Sir Walter Scott, “Oh, what a 
tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” 

There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time 
the curtain rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and 
furious. A very exceptional farce. Price, 60 Cents. 


THE NEW CO-ED. 

A comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of “Tempest and 
Sunshine,” etc. Characters, 4 males, 7 females, though any number 
of boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One 
interior and one exterior scene, but can be easily played in one inte¬ 
rior scene. Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. 

The theme of this play is the coming of a new student to the col¬ 
lege, her reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. 

There are three especially good girls’ parts, Letty, Madge and 
Estelle, but the others have plenty to do. “Punch” Doolittle and 
George Washington Watts, a gentleman of color, are two particularly 
good comedy characters. We can strongly recommend “The New 
Co-Ed” to high schools and amateurs. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriprive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 




JUNK 

OR 


One of Those Sunday Mornings 


In One Act 


BY 

HENRY CLAPP SMITH 


Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French 


All Rights Reserved « 


CAUTION. — Professionals and amateurs are hereby 
warned that this play is fully copyrighted under the 
existing laws of the United States, and no one is 
allowed to produce this play without first having 
obtained permission of Samuel French, 28 West 38th 
Street, New York City, U. S. A. 


NEW YORK 
Samuel French 
Publisher 

28-30 West 38th Street 


LONDON 

Samuel French, Ltd. 
£6 Southampton Street 
Strand 










SIP 2 3 ’22 


©ci.D ti i 


* v v« I 


All Rights Reserved 

“JUNK” is fully protected by copyright, and all 
rights are reserved. 

Permission to act, to read publicly, or to make use 
of this play must be obtained from Samuel French, 
28-30 West 38t.h Street. New York. 

It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of 
five dollars per performance, payable to Samuel French 
one week before the date of production. 

Professional rates quoted on application. 

Whenever this play is produced the following notice 
must appear on all programs, printing and advertising' 
for the play: “Produced by special arrangement with 
Samuel French of New York.” 



































I 



























JUNK 


CHARACTERS 


Maud Beatie ( pronounced Bay-tea) 

Lucius Beatie, her lmsbancl 
Augustus Jones, her friend 
Sterling Peabody ( known as Pud ) 

Evadne Peabody ( knoivn as Eve, his ivife) 
Alphonse Drelincourt ( known as Spider) 
Muriel Frelinghuysen {knoivn as Kitten) 
Peter Salisbury Jones {knoivn as Joe) 

Lakehurst. A Sunday Morning in June. 

Living-Room of the Beaties. 

Maud is preferably 30, short, dark, quiet and 
calm, but has company manners of 100% pep. 

Lucius is older, 40 or more, very serious, sin¬ 
cere, kindly, and except for owning a motor, 
generous to a fault. 

Augustus, 30, very happy with himself. Thinks 
he is a great wit, dresser, flirt and all around 
beau of beaux. 

Sterling, 35, stout, short and very complai- 
scent. 

Evadne, 30, pretty, light, witty and possibili¬ 
ties of being a darling devil. 

Alphonse, 35, tall, handsome, a real leading 
man, dry humor, abundant spirits, a natural 
flirt. 

Muriel, dark, 28, handsome, very ethical, still 
enjoys romance, but only with the best 
people. Has a more serious strain than 
Evadne or Alphonse. 

Peter, practical, hard-headed, even-tempered 
man of 28. Sees a joke and makes them, but 
doesn’t hold with frivolity. 



JUNK 


PROPERTY LIST 
Sunday newspaper. 

Poster, rolled, reading “Amateur Players’ 
Club, etc.” See specimen. 

Jar of tobacco. 

Trick cigarette lighter for Augustus^ 

Property list for Augustus. 

Tennis ball for Alphonse. 

Plate of six lettuce sandwich rolls with lettuce 
showing at the ends. 

Camabert cheese in its box. 

Big tin box of saltine crackers. 

Thermos of cocktails for Alphonse. 

Tray of eight cocktail glasses for Maud. 

Motor horn. 

Motor effects if possible. 

Door bell. 

Chromo or portrait of funny looking old men 
in. a gilt frame. 




JUNK 


(.SPECIMEN OF PROPERTY POSTER) 

The 

AMATEUR PLAYERS CLUB 
of New York 

will present 

BUNK and PUNK 

for the benefit of 

The Home for Wayward Girls 
SATURDAY NIGHT, JUNE 22nd 
at the Clubhouse 


Tickets , $1.00 



J U N K 

SCENE 

Front door in centre of right side, radiator 
up right of centre, door left, well up. If pos¬ 
sible have mantlepiece centre with clock and 
irons, etc.; also have window behind radiator, 
shade down, for fear of fading the carpet. 
When up shade discloses garden scene or view 
if possible and hot sunlight. 

A large table is left centre, with books, lamp 
(practical or not), etc. Each side of table com¬ 
fortable chairs, but if possible the right centre 
is a tricky one, such as horsehair or spring 
rocker, or plain rocker, or tufted with anti¬ 
macassar. This is known as the big chair. 
R. C. another chair, also one down right. Pic¬ 
tures on wall—the more the better. The chromo 
is desirable, also large chromo or colored photo 
in gilt frame of Maud’s father. This should be 
over mantle, or if no mantle, bookcase, or 
shelves. Anyway it is in the centre of the 
back. 

The room is full of things—plants, hassocks, 
fur rugs, etc.—and during the play everything 
possible is removed except the big table and big 
rug and big chair. The three “natives” speak 
simply and with great cordiality. When things 
really upset them they seem very resigned, but 
you feel that later they will vent their feelings. 
The “city” visitors are carefree, happy and 
annoyingly healthy. 


6 


JUNK 


Curtain rises on Maud, seated left of big 
table, spectacles, reading Sunday magazine sec¬ 
tion. Lucius right of big table reading base¬ 
ball news. He has on soft shirt and collar, golf 
trousers and pumps instead of golf shoes. She 
wears a gingham bungalow apron. You can 
almost hear the flies buzz. Shades, if any, are 
down, but the room is bright yellow-orange in 
light and warmth. 

The radiator opens with loud, eccentric bang¬ 
ing. (Done with a hammer on pipe behind 
scenes) two quarter notes, pause, two eighth 
notes, pause, quarter note, four sixteenths and 
a whole note crescendo. 

Maud, The radiator, dear. (Never looking 
up) 

Lucius. (Rises, goes to radiator, fixes 
valve, always reading. As he returns to seat) 
If you closed the valve properly it wouldn’t 
knock. 

Maud. You close it so tight I can’t open it. 

Lucius. It doesn’t take strength to do it 
properly. It’s a knack. 

(Pause, then radiator repeats, but a little 

more muffled.) 

Maud. So I see. (Pause) I wish we had a 
motor. (Pause) Amy Martin has a new car. 
(Pause) Fred just bought it. (Pause) Wasn’t 
so expensive, $985.00, including the horn. 

Lucius. It isn’t the buying the car that’s 
expensive, it’s running it. Up-keep, tires, in¬ 
surance. 

Maud. We could keep it in the Garden Tool 
House. 


JUNK 


7 


Lucius. Tool house is for tools. 

Maud. I could meet your train nights. 

Lucius. The walk’s good for me. 

Maud. I could market in it and save money 
by shopping and bringing things home. 

Lucius. Blow in $4.00 worth of gasoline to 
save 40 cents on vegetables. You women don’t 
know how to economize. It’s well enough to 
own a car if you’ve a big enough income to 
charge it off to luxury, but don’t pull this “own 
a car and save carfare” stuff on me. No, sir. 
Martin can have all the cars he wants, but your 
uncle Dudley’s looking ahead. I can afford a 
car. Yes, I got money in the bank, and that’s 
where it belongs. Why you’d have to have a 
chauffeur—yes you would; you can’t even wind 
a watch. You can’t fix a radiator. Now look 
at Curtis. 

(Bang, bang, bang on the radiator.) 

Maud. I wish you could fix a radiator. 

Lucius. (Has wrestled with radiator, so 
notv he is nice and warm) Now look at Curtis, 
as I was saying. He has money and a good in¬ 
come, but he’s never bought a car- 

Maud. Until yesterday. 

Lucius. Huh! 

Maud. Bought a nice touring car, one-man 
top, for $1,050.00, including the horn. 

Lucius. You include the horn as if it was 
the biggest and most important thing. 

Maud. No. Well, we wouldn’t need the 
horn when we have you, dear. (Read again) 

Lucius. I suppose that’s intended to be 
funny. (Reads) 

Maud. It is funny. (Pause) If we had a 



8 


JUNK 


car we could be out motoring now instead of 
being in this hot room. 

Lucius. You know very well we couldn’t. 
Those actorines from New York are coming 
out. Besides I’d rather play golf- 

Maud. Why do they have to come here? 

Lucius. Gus wants to use some of our fur¬ 
niture and things for the play on Saturday. 
They’re going to pick them out- 

Maud. Well, they can have anything except 
Father’s portrait. What do they want? 

Lucius. How do I know. Ask me after they 
get here. 

Maud. When do they arrive? 

Lucius. Train comes in at 1:30. 

Maud. Will they want anything to eat? 
How many are there? 

Lucius. I don’t know. Gus expects some 
man and perhaps his wife. No, they won’t 
want any dinner. 

Maud. I hope they don’t as we’re having the 
chicken for supper and such a late breakfast I 
didn’t figure we’d have any dinner to-day, just 
some salad. I really haven’t anything in the 
house but some lettuce and cheese. Did you 
know the Club’s closed? 

Lucius. Club closed! 

Maud. Yes, the range broke so they let the 
steward have a holiday. ( Loud whistling and 
three rings on front hell) That’s Gus, let him 
in. 

Lucius. (Opens door) Hello there, stranger. 

Augustus. ( Dapper , tight light suit, very 
high collar, very big bow tie, very small mus¬ 
tache, 30 years, and the town's leading devil . 




JUNK 


9 


He should have remained a bachelor.) Stranger 
yourself. How’ve you been since last night? 
Hullo, Maud. 

Maud. Hullo, Gus. 

Augustus. Nice eats at the party, wasn’t 
they? I told Emmy their bill of fare was fair 
enough—what’s the news? 

Lucius. News is I’m going to Mike’s to get 
a shampoo. Now that the train windows are 
open the soot is awful. 

Maud. I think the Erie is burning soft coal 
again. 

Augustus. Again! Still. Say, did you hear 
my wheeze yesterday? I was running for the 
8:06 and Mrs. Proctor said, “Are you training 
for a race,” and I said, “No. I’m racing for a 
train.” Ha, Ha! That hit the old dame; you 
should have heard her laugh. 

Maud. You don’t care how old they are. 

Augustus. What, the women? ( Very 
pleased with himself ) 

Maud. No! The jokes. 

Lucius. I’m going to put on my shoes. I’ll 
be right back. (Exit L.) 

Augustus. Well, sweetie. (Surreptitiously 
kisses Maud) 

Maud. Stop it. ( Pleased ) 

Augustus. How’s the little woman. 

Maud. Now you behave. What’s the name 
of the Club that’s coming out? 

Augustus. The Amateur Players Club of 
New York. 

Maud. Pretty good, I’ll tell the world. Say, 
but they’re very swell, ain’t they. I’ll bet they’ll 
be as cold and standoffish as an iceberg. 

Augustus. Not a’ tall, not a’ tall. Peabody 


10 


JUNK 


whose coming out is the president and just as 
genial as rum punch. That was good hootch 
last night. 

Maud. You ought to know. 

Augustus. I didn’t bring it. 

Maud. No, but you took it away. 

Lucius. ( Entering , shoes and coat on) I’m 
going now. What are you two going to do? 

Augustus. I’ll stay and give Maud an ear¬ 
ful. I told Peabody to stop here first. I knew 
some one would be in. 

Lucius. I’d been out playing golf, but I 
slept late after the party and then it wasn’t 
time to get around before they came. 

Maud. What time is it? 

Augustus. Eleven thirt. 

Maud. Good gracious! No, you can’t stay 
here. I’m going to give Apollo a bath and do 
my hair. 

Augustus. How’s his chicken pox? 

Maud. Ah, much better, but he can’t see 
anyone. He’s been asleep until now. 

Augustus. Shouldn’t bathe him with a 
fever. Stuff a cold, but starve a fever. 

Maud. Why his fever’s all gone. The doc¬ 
tor said it was all right to give him a bath. 

Augustus. Don’t tell the wife I came in¬ 
doors. Two-de-Duluth. 

Maud. See you later. (Exit left) 

Lucius. Have some tobaccoo. ( Fills pipe 
from jar) 

Augustus. No, thanks; prefer a cig. (Lights 
one with trick lighter) 

Lucius. (To door l.) Maud! Maud! I’ve 
left my keys upstairs. I’ll ring twice when I 
come back. 


JUNK 


11 


Augustus. We ought to make over $300.00 
out of this show. 

Lucius. How? 

Augustus. Well, the club costs nothing and 
they act and provide their costumes for nothing 
and the scenery was made for the show last 
year. So we only have the printing of tickets 
to pay for and advertising. By the way, ( Pro¬ 
ducing roll he brought with him) here’s a 
pester Fred made ( Unfolds nice poster reading 
Amateur Players Club of New York presents, 
etc., a short poster, and any local material, if 
desired, may be substituted here.) 

Lucius. That’s a piperino. Now, I don’t 
care much for pictures, but good signs I do like. 

Augustus. Here, let’s put it up. ( Fastens 
to mantle so it hangs) 

Lucius. That’s fine about the $300.00. Have 
you sold all the tickets? 

Augustus. No, we’ve sold $80.00 worth so 
far, but we’re counting on all of you to take 
10 each. 

Lucius. Now look here, I’ll lend you my 
furniture and my time, but I won’t sell tickets. 

Augustus. Oh ! I’m glad you spoke of fur¬ 
niture. Here’s their prop list. ( Produces large 
envelope) They want a parlour organ. Who 
has one? 

Lucius. Mrs. Bebee, but she’d never lend it. 
Since Bebee died she allows no one to touch it. 
I guess he played enough to fill her lip with 
music for life. 

Augustus. And they want a table, 9 chairs, 
a rug, a folding bed—I haven’t seen one in 
years. . 


12 


JUNK 


LUCIUS. Nor has anyone else. They went 
out of style with high wheel bicycles. 

Augustus. ( Reading) Portrait of comic 
old man in gilt frame. 

LUCIUS. Bye the bye, Maud says anything 
you want you’re welcome to, except, of course, 
Father’s portrait. 

Augustus. Did you ever know him? 

Lucius. Oh yes. That was,taken just after 
he was elected president of the Schenectady 
Mop Co. 

Augustus. I can’t make out all their list. 
They want any furniture, new or old, but funny. 
What does funny furniture mean? We haven’t 
any funny furniture. Particularly a funny 
1880 arm chair. 

Lucius. I guess they mean period furniture 
with chairs so fancy you have to be taught how 
to sit in them. 

Augustus. They want two dozen plates, 
breakable. 

Lucius. There goes your $80.00. 

Augustus. What is a chase lung? 

Lucius. Lunch. 

Augustus. No, lung. (Spelling) C-h-a-i-s-e 
L-o-n-g-u-e. 

Lucius. Oh, that’s French for davenport. 
Let’s go. I’ve got to get back. 

Augustus. Righto! 

Lucius. Walk up to Mike’s with me. 

Augustus. Sure. Why don’t you buy a 
motor? 

Lucius. (Going, followed by Gus) Can 
that now. Can that motor stuff. Don’t you let 
Maud hear you say anything about my buying 
a car, etc. (Exit R.) 


JUNK 


13 


(Pause, motor horn , voices off R. Feet, door¬ 
bell rings twice. Pause. In comes Maud l. 
in gaudy petticoat, hair in curl papers, hands 
visibly wet. Opens door, holding petticoat 
over handle.) 

Maud. ( Loudly ) My Gord, right when I 
have Appollo in the tub; next time take your 
keys. (Leaves door and goes L. c. and then 
realizes it isn't Lucius and stands with horror 
facing two men and two women, who look at 
her equally surprised. The four visitors, 
Alphonse, Sterling, Muriel, Evadne, are 
dressed in snappy clothes and are very happy. 
Pause) 

Muriel. Is this the Beaties? (Pronounced 
Bee-tea) 

Maud. Yes, this is the Beaties. (Always 
pronounced by her Bay-tea) 

Muriel. Please tell Mrs. Beatie (Correctly) 
Mr. and Mrs. Peabody and friends are here. 

Maud. (Has endeavored to hide behind 
chair L.) Oh! yes—just a minute. (Halting 
speech) If you—I’ll tell her. (Exit L. quickly.) 

Alphonse. They’re wearing ’em higher in 
Hawaii. 

Sterling. That’s not a skirt, it’s a petti¬ 
coat. 

Alphonse. Ha! Ha! They don’t wear 
them any more. 

Sterling. Some do. 

Alphonse. (To Evadne) Do you? 
Evadne. None of your business, sir, she 
said. 

Alphonse. Would you deny me education? 
Evadne. A little knowledge is a dangerous 
thing. 



14 


JUNK 


Alphonse. Well, I can guess, and (To 
Muriel) 

Muriel. No we don’t, but they evidently 
still do, in Lakehurst. 

Alphonse. Well, travelling does broaden 
one. 

(Sterling stai'ts to close door. The four now 
pre-empt the room.) 

Evadne. Oh! leave it open and open the 
window, Pud. It’s stifling. (Sterling does so) 
You’d think the heat was on. 

Muriel. It probably is. 

Evadne. Not in June. 

Muriel. It isn’t the 20th yet. They never 
turn off the heat and winter flannels till the 
20th of June in the country. 

Sterling. What is so rare as a day in June? 

Alphonse. A Jaeger. 

Muriel. It’s the funniest thing, too; I can’t 
understand why people in the country always 
keep all their windows closed. 

Alphonse. Well, you know that’s why the 
air is so pure in the country. 

Sterling. That was the darndest looking 
maid I ever saw. 

Evadne. If you live in the country you take 
them no matter how they look. 

Sterling. That’s why we don’t live in the 
country, but I didn’t mean her looks. I’m 
criticising her costume. 

Evadne. There wasn’t much to criticize. 

Alphonse. Right. No costume, no criti¬ 
cism. 

Muriel. Spider, where do you think you 
are? Lakehurst. 


JUNK 


15 


(Muriel and Alphonse are notv having a 

catch with a tennis ball which Alphonse had 

in his pocket. Sterling and Evadne arc 

reading the papers.) 

Evadne. Why don’t you two play on the 
lawn; you’ll break something in here. 

Alphonse. Lawn, you mean the “rest in 
peace” grass plot. That’s where the family dog 
was buried. 

Muriel. Hush! (They play up stage so as 
not to block the others and also less chance of 
the ball going into the audience if they muff 
it.) Oh yes, let’s. Come on, Spider. Fresh 
air—fill your lungs. Be a man. You’re getting 
old and have lost all your pep. 

Evadne. Spider doesn’t want to get all hot 
and muss his things. No) he doesn’t. 

Sterling. Why should anyone want to run 
around on a hot day when they can sit down. 
(He is in the comfortable big chair c.) 

Muriel. For the figure, old dear, it would 
do you a lot of good. 

Evadne. Who are coming out Saturday, 
Pud, beside the cast. 

Sterling. (Counting on fingers) Well, 
there are seven in the cast and with wives and 
husbands that makes twelve in all. Then there’s 
Joe and Kary and Lawrence and wives, that’s 
—let’s see—12 and 6—18, and we two make 20. 
Spider, why don’t you bring your sister? 

Alphonse. Fine. 

Sterling. That’s 21. Then we thought the 
Blacks, the Crockers, Drakes and Huttons 
would come, that’s 29, oh about thirty. 


16 


JUNK 


Muriel. Don’t you think it is a little hard 
on these people to expect a cast of seven and 
have twenty-nine come out? Think of the 
dinners. 

Sterling. Oh, everyone will bring their 
own liquor. 

Muriel. I mean food, Pud, not spirits. 

Sterling. First you say I haven’t any 
spirits and then too much. 

Muriel. Too little animal and too much 
vegetable. 

Alphonse. Where does the mineral come 
in? 

Evadne. In the White Rock. 

Muriel. What’s the matter? (To Al¬ 
phonse, who is staring at Father's portrait) 
(Sees it) Oh!- 

Alphonse. See what the cat brought in. 
(Offers ball to Evadne). Three shots for a 
nickle. 

Evadne. That’s lovely. Oh, we must have 
that for the show. 

Sterling. It’s a little embarrassing, isn’t 
it? The prop list calls for a picture of a comic 
old man—that’s most likely some relative. 

Evadne. It may be a hired house, including 
the furniture. 

Muriel. It is not. 

Evadne. Well, pretend it is and then we 
can all laugh at the picture and they won’t dare 
say it’s theirs. 

Muriel. That’s a fine idea. Why not just 
insult the picture without®insulting everything 
else. 

Sterling. Why it’s no insult to laugh at a 



JUNK 


17 


portrait, Tou ought to see my family done in 
oil; they’re a scream. 

Muriel. Do you take after your family? 

Evadne. He does. 

Sterling. You can’t hurt my feelings. They 
were rich. 

Evadne. And fat. 

Alphonse. Why not just say fat. 

Sterling. How so? 

Evadne. A poor person can’t afford a 
luxurious equator. 

Muriel. Oh, 1 don’t know. 

Alphonse. Did you ever see a poor fat 
man? 

Evadne. Depends on what you mean by 
poor— -Pud’s a poor fat man. 

Sterling. I do wish you’d get off my stom¬ 
ach and talk of something else. 

Evadne. You’d get off your own stomach if 
you’d diet. 

Alphonse. Stop eating for a couple of 
years, Pud. 

Sterling. You make me tired. 

Alphonse. Our hostess must have been in 
bed. 

Sterling. You’re not married. You don’t 
know how slowly a woman can dress. 

Alphonse. Considering how little they 
wear, they ought to be up and out like a fire 
horse. 

Muriel. A fire horse doesn’t have to dress 
his hair. 

Sterling. Neither do bob-tailed flappers. 

Evadne. Don’t be ridiculous; they have to 
comb it. 


18 


JUNK 


Alphonse. Do they comb their hair at 
home? I always thought they saved it to do in 
the theatre. 

Muriel. Here comes some one. Oh, its Joe. 
{Enter Joe) 

Jones Say, the Club’s all right, except for 
the lighting and, of course, a flat floor. 

Sterling. How’s the scenery? 

Jones. Fair, but there’s no furniture there 
and I couldn’t find anyone about. 

Muriel. How did you get in? 

Jones. Back window, second from the left. 
Say, I wonder if we could use some of this stuff. 
What’s that? ( Points to poster) 

Sterling. 0 gosh! Why can’t they ever 
get the club’s name straight. 

Muriel. Now don’t tell them. Use a little 
tact. 

Evadne. He hasn’t any. 

Sterling. Then why did you accept me? 

Evadne. You had it until you were married. 

Sterling. I see, I lost it when I married 
you. 

Evadne. Well that remark proves it never 
came back. 

(Joe has meanwhile collected quite a lot of 
' small things , mostly breakable , on a tray or 

large book.) 

Muriel. You can’t take these people’s things 
without their permission. 

Evadne. They have so many they won’t 
miss them. 

Jones. {To A.) Can I load up the car? 


JUNK 


19 


Alphonse. Go as far as you like, only don’t 
break the thermos. 

Muriel. No, Joe, you mustn’t. Pud, you 
can’t let them- 

Sterling. I guess we better wait. 

Jones. What’s this “we” stuff? I’ll bet 
you’ve sat there ever since you came in. ( Starts 
to lift tray of things from table. Muriel stops 
him and they ivrestle, kid like. A. is by door, 
other two still seated) (To A.) Catch! 
(Throws some small vase or china dog ) 

Muriel. Stop it! (Joe lets go another. J. 
and A. both enjoy this and talk ad lib, “out on 
second ,” “Jones catching,” “Carl Mays in the 
box,” etc., “two strikes.” During this Lucius, 
with hat on, enters R. Looks horrified. Every¬ 
one stops; picture. Lucius realizes who they 
are, takes off hat, and his hair is oiled and 
parted in true barber style. 

Muriel. I beg your pardon, is this Mr. 
Battie? 

Lucius. Mr. Beatie (Bay-tea) , yes mam. 

Muriel. This is Mr. Peabody, Mrs. Pea¬ 
body, Mr. Drelincourt (Pronounced in French) 
and Mr. Jones. 

Lucius. Any relation to Parker Jones? 

Jones. No —Rhode Island Jones. 

Lucius. Where’s Maud? 

Muriel. Maud? Oh, you mean the maid. I 
don’t know, she just let us in and said she’d call 
Mrs. Betty. 

Lucius. Beatie. No, Maud isn’t the maid; 

she’s Mrs. Beatie. We haven’t any ma-- 

(Worried look) Will you excuse me a moment? 
Make yourselves at home. (Observes that they 
have. Exit L.) 




20 


JUNK 


Muriel. Now will you be good. Na! (At 
Joe) 

Jones. Na! (In silence they put hack the 
things they had been throwing) 

Muriel. You boys ought to realize just be¬ 
cause you’ve left New York you’re not in the 
woods. 

Alphonse. Spider loves grandma. 

Sterling. Whew it’s hot. ' 

Evadne. Well (Yawns, lays down paper), 
nothing new. I feel like starting something. 

Muriel. Start Pud. 

Lucius. (Enters) Mrs. Beattie will be 
right down. It’s so good of you to come out. I 
must apologize for not being here. We expected 
you on the one-thirty. 

Sterling. Oh, we came out in Mr. Drelin- 
court’s motor. 

Lucius. Well, now, I believe you want some 
furniture and ornaments. I’m really not in 
charge here. Our Mr.- 

Jones. Oh that’s all right, I’ve seen the set, 
it’s bully. Could we have some of these things 
to dress the stage? It would be fine. 

Lucius. Why certainly. Maud said you 
could have everything except- 

Jones That’s great. Gangway, please. (Joe 
picks up tray of knick knacks, etc., and exits 
R.) 

Lucius. It’s so good of you to come out. 
Was it a pleasant trip? (Ad lib answers) 
(Casually) What are you doing about dinner? 

Sterling. Oh, we couldn’t stay to dinner, 
thanks. (Lucius looks relieved) We only 
planned to stay for lunch. 




JUNK 


21 


• 

Lucius. ( Haltingly) Why the er Club is 

closed. Fni awfully sorry, but- I’m sure 

Maud would love to take care of you. How 
many are there? 

Alphonse. Four. 

Muriel. Four—why no, five. 

Alphonse. Oh, ha, ha! I forgot Pud. Call 
it six. 

Muriel. No, Mr. Betty, only five. 

Lucius. Beatie. That will be fine. (Dis¬ 
plays no emotion, however) (Crash off right. 
Lucius looks worried) 

Alphonse. Ha! Ha! Set ’em up in the 
other alley. How many did you break? 

Jones. ( Off stage) Didn’t break any. 
That’s your wind shield. (Alphonse, in horror, 
exits. Lucius smiles with relief.) 

Lucius. It’s really too bad our Mr. Jones 
isn’t here. We’re quite lost without him. We 
call him the life of the town. I went to the 
barbers (E. says u evidentlysoftly, without in¬ 
terrupting) and Gus, that’s Mr. Jones, left me 
to see the rector after church. We thought it 
would be so nice if Dr. Luce could make a 
speech between the acts for the Wayward Girls 
Home, for which the charity is being given. 
Evadne. Appropriate name—Loose. 

Lucius. It’s spelled L-U-C-E, madam. 
Sterling. (Sotto voice, pronouncing cor¬ 
rectly) Luce. 

(During the above and the folloiving Joe, 
Spider and Kitten remove to the car most 
every thing, except the tivo big chairs , table 
and rug and just a few odds and ends. Joe 
has taken down the window shade and cur- 



22 


JUNK 


tains. The three movers talk softly acl lib 
and rather derogatory of the things they 
take. Lucius talks pretty steadily and in a 
manner of great effort to please, but it’s 
quite dull. The ad lib about the furniture can 
include, “What do you want the foot stool 
for?” “The rubber plant,” “Why whe?i she 
waters the plant it will ruin it,” “Oh no—look 
at it,” also “Will those curtains do?” “They'll 
do to cover a coffin” “The pattern would 
ivake the corpse.” Also, “Do you like that 
chair?” “No, thanks, I’ll take chocolate.” 
About the ornaments : “Grab the vase.” 
“That’s not a vase, it’s a varze.” “It’s junk, 
but grab it ” Also, “That’s all right, except 
for the color.” “And the shape,” etc. Mean¬ 
time : 

Evadne. Do you act at all ? 

Lucius. Oh, a little bit. We’ve played “The 
School for Scandal”—I was Crabtree. 

Evadne. Crabtree! Funny, we gave it but 
I don’t remember that part. 

Lucius. Well it’s usually cut out of most 
performances. I’ve also played in the “Game 
of Chess.” 

Evadne. Oh yes. Were you Alexandro- 
vitch ? 

Lucius. No, I was the footman. 

Evadne. (Thinking slowly) Oh — yes. 
(Almost sings the oh) 

Lucius. But you’ll remember that’s a very 
important line. I’ve played a lot of butlers’ 
parts. I’ve counted up nine. 

Evadne. Perhaps they’re preparing you to 
play the Admirable Crichton. 


JUNK 


23 


Lucius. Don’t know it, mam. 

Evadne. Why the butler is the Head Devil, 
Hot Dog and King Solomon. 

Lucius. My, that sounds good to me. 

(.During last two speeches arrange so (Al¬ 
phonse and Muriel have come back on 
stage, Joe is off. The window shade and 
curtains must be off. Grandpa's portrait 
must still be on) 

Maud. (Enters overdressed, hair splendid, 
full of trained enthusiasm and entirely differ¬ 
ent from before ) How do you do. 

Lucius. Oh! Maud, this is Mrs. Peabody. 
Maud. Pleased to meet you, I’m sure. 

Lucius. (To Muriel) And Mrs.- I 

didn’t get your name. 

Alphonse, Muriel and Evadne. (Together, 
but not in unison ) Miss Frelinghuysen. 

Maud. Pleased to meet you (Accent the 
you) Pm sure. 

Lucius. And Mr. Dr.- 

Alphonse, Muriel and Evadne. (Together, 
but not in unison) Drelincourt. 

Maud. (Maud is visibly impressed and 
almost timid at Alphonse’s good looks and 
very coyly shakes hands) Hm! (Almost a 
sigh) 

Alphonse. Call me Spider, it’s easier. 
Maud. (Glorious smile) Are you the Presi¬ 
dent? 

Alphonse. No, Pm too thin. 

Sterling. Thank you. 

Lucius. This is Mr. Peabody, the President. 
Pm glad I got one name straight. 




24 


JUNK 


Maud. This is so good of you all to come 
and help our little charity. (Lucius has gone 
cloivn Rt. and is beaming at Muriel. They con- 
verse happily. Alphonse is Left, amusing 
himself talking to Evadne, who is still seated 
Left. On her light in front of table is M. and 
S. who had risen is still in front of chair centre 
which he has occupied up to now. E. does not 
observe the following picture episode.) M. (To 
S.) Oh do sit down, you must be tired. (She 
is facing Rt. and sees Joe enter , go to mantle , 
take Father's picture and exit. She is so sur¬ 
prised’ she's frozen. As he leaves she comes to 
and calls helplessly to L.) Lucius, Lucius. 
(Lucius is too happy to hear) Lucius, some¬ 
one has just taken Fathers’ picture. 

Lucius. Oh! excuse me. (Exit R. after 
Joe) 

(Maud now surveys the room and looks bewil¬ 
dered. Alphonse is leaning over Evadne’s 
shoulder talking to her. Sterling looks 
sleepy. Muriel is looking out of door R.) 

(Joe enters with portrait, folloived by Lucius, 
very embarrassed.) 

Lucius. You see, old man, I’m terribly 
sorry, but it’s an heirloom and Mrs. B. thinks 
more of it than anything we own. I often say 
(Trying hard to be light and humorous) in case 
of fire she’d drop me and the baby and take the 
picture. Don’t bother to hang it. I’ll do that. 
Just set it there. (Both holding picture) You 
see how it is. You understand, don’t you? 
Jones. Why certainly—-of course—of course. 


JUNK 


25 


Maud. (In blank astonishment is gazing at 
the window) Where are the curtains? 

Lucius. ( Soothingly ) Out in the motor. 

dear. 

Maud. But the sun, it will fade the carpet. 

Jones. Oh that’s all right, we’re taking the 
carpet too. 

Lucius. Oh dear, shake hands with Mr. 
Jones—my wife. 

Maud. Mr. Jones, any relation to Parker 
Jones? 

Jones. No. Rhode Island Jones. 

Augustus. ( Enters cheerily) Well, well, 

well. How do you do, Mr. Peabody. 

Sterling. Hullo there. ( They shake) 

Maud. Oh Gus, meet Mrs. Peabody, Miss 
Freehousing, Mr. Drelliloor, and te he (Gay, 
twittering laugh) Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones. 

Alphonse. Greek meets Greek. 

Lucius. (To M.) Oh dear, I said we could 
fix up a little something for these good people 
to eat. We’re sorry the Clubhouse is closed. 

Maud. Why that’s splendid, but I’m afraid 
there’s nothing in the house. You see I didn’t 
know- 

Alphonse. Oh don’t bother, none of us eat 
but Peabody and it’s best he shouldn’t. 

Lucius. How about the lettuce? 

Maud. All right as far as it goes, but it’s a 
little head and lettuce has been so poor this 
year. We’ve had such a time with fresh vege¬ 
tables. As I say, living in the country we have 
to go to the city for country things. You must 
find a car a great advantage. If you’ll excuse 
me I think we have some crackers and a cheese. 

Sterling. Ah! 



26 


JUNK 


Maud. No, it’s Camabert. 

Sterling. My favorite. 

Maud. I have to put on some chickens to 
stew for supper. We’re having fricassee 
chicken. Lu and I always have fricassee Sun¬ 
day nights. 

Augustus. If this hot weather keeps up 
we’ll all fricassee. 

Sterling. I think the perfect Summer re¬ 
sort is a tub. 

Maud. {Horror!) Tub — Apollo — Oh! 
(Starts L.) 

Augustus. What’s the matter? 

Maud. (As she exits on the run) I forgot 
Appollo; he’s still in the tub. 

Sterling. Lucky fellow. 

Alphonse. {To Evadne) Is .it a dog— 
Apollo. 

Evadne. If it was a dog he’d hop out. 

Augustus. I named him Apollo. 

Evadne. The answer is obvious; he’s good 
looking. 

Augustus. Oh no. {Confused) Oh yes, 
but I mean it’s not that. Why he’s so full of 
pep. I call him Apollonaris, or Apollo for short. 

Muriel. So original 

Augustus. I’m sorry I wasn’t on hand to 
meet you, but I didn’t expect you so early. I 
see you’ve taken some of the things. 

Jones. Yes, we’ve got a fair jag. 

Alphonse. Where did you get it? 

Jones. I mean half a load. 

Alphonse. Fair enough. 

Jones. {To G.) What is your name really? 

Augustus. Jones! What’s yours? 

Jones. Jones. 


JUNK 


27 


Augustus. Delaware ? 

Jones. Rhode Island! 

Alphonse. An awful lot of you for two 
such small states. 

Augustus. I have your list of props. 

Lucius. Mr. Jones is our handy man. He 
does everything and is some actor. Yes sir, 
ril tell the world. I just love his stories. We 
have some fine shows out here. Of course, 
nothing like yours, and Gus always shines. 

Augustus. (Feels he is called on to enter¬ 
tain. Any good old story not too long can be 
substituted here, otherwise) Do you know the 
story of Sandy Macdonald and the bag pipes. 
(This is not a question and the others ad lib 
half-heartedly have to say “Oh do,” “No,” etc. 
(In dialect ) Well, Sandy’s mother was very ill 
and one evening his friends came and brought 
their pipes and they played for a while when 
they were interrupted by the Doctor, coming 
to see his Mother. The Doctor was an English¬ 
man and after he had gone upstairs to the sick 
room the boys played some more. As he didn’t 
come down they had a wee drappie and played 
again, and finally Sandy went up to see what 
was the matter and why the English Doctor 
didn’t come down. Sandy’s friends waited. 
Shortly Sandy appeared and said, “Mither’s 
better the noo, but the Doctor’s daid.” ( Splen¬ 
did artificial laughter by all except Lucius, who 
really laughs.) 

Alphonse. ( Hoping to change things) The 
Giants are going to win the pennant this year. 

Jones. I’ll take you on that. 

Alphonse. Who do you think? 

Jones. Cleveland. 


28 


JUNK 


Augustus. ( Undaunted) You know the 
story of the colored man hired to drive Maud, 
a famous balky mule, and he was successful for 
about ten days when Maud suddenly stopped in 
a small village and Mose called up his boss on 
the telephone. His conversation was some¬ 
thing like this: Hullo, hullo, this am Mose and 
Maud has done balked—yes sir—yes sir—we 
tried that—yes sir—we built a . fire—yes sir— 
only three feet—no, it didn’t burn the wagon 
much—yes sir—yes sir—I broke the stick— 
oh yes sir, the whip wore out—long ago—yes 
sir. Say does you want me to come home and 
work for you, or stay here till Maud moves? 
{Ad lib, “Fine ,” “Ha, ha!” etc., but iveaker.) 

Lucius. I can just see that mule. 

AUGUSTUS. I heard a good cockney story the 
other day. {During this all leave, Joe dragging 
L. off, except Gus, who doesn’t notice, and 
Evadne. Muriel and Alphonse are last to 
leave and pantomime good-bye kisses to 
Evadne, unseen by Gus.) In England during 
the war clerks {Pronounced clarkes) were so 
scarce that shopkeepers did their own work of 
all kinds. Well, one man too old for service had 
. an antique store and sold a grandfather’s clock. 
He was strong and the distance was short and 
he needed the money so he took out the works, 
put the case on his shoulder and started to 
walk. Turning a corner quickly the clock case 
swung out and hit a navvy walking by and 
knocked him in the gutter. The old man fell 
down and the clock bounced on the sidewalk. 
The Navvy got up and dusted himself and 
looked at the old man and then at the clock and 
says, “Gawd blime me, why don’t you kerry a 


JUNK 


29 


bloomin’ wrist watch.” ( These stories must be 
over told and acted out and the other actors' 
boredom must provide the situation.) 

Evadne. Oh, splendid. Do you know, I was 
saying to my husband only the other day how 
there were no raconteurs in this country. 

Augustus. Curious you should say that 
(Very flattered) for only yesterday I said there 
is no word in English that really means the 
same thing. 

Evadne. You make one mistake, though. 

Augustus. (A little down) What is that? 

Evadne. You ought not tell beforehand 
what dialect you are going to use and make 
your audience guess it. 

Augustus. Oh, do you think so? Do you 
think they’d guess it—that’s so good of you. 

Evadne. Oh, not at all. I always give credit 
where credit is due. 

Augustus. It 'makes such a difference to 
have a real audience—one who understands. 
(They exchange looks) I’ll tell you an Italian 
story. 

Evadne. How perfectly delightful. I love 
Italian stories. I was in Rome last Summer 
and an Englishman was quite attentive. 

Augustus. There’s an Englishman in this, 
too. Eh- 

Evadne. ( Going right on) and Mr. Peabody 
was there on business and had bought so many 
things—particularly at one shop. Well, my 
British admirer-- 

Augustus. You must have so many it is 
hard to remember them all. 

Evadne. Oh, do you think so? {Mock inno¬ 
cence) 




30 


JUNK 


Augustus. Yes. (Both sigh) Well, an 
Englishman- 

Evadne. ( Interrupting) He insisted on 
making me a little present to remind me of 
Sacramento. 

Augustus. A memento of Sacramento. 

Evadne. How clever; that’s what he said. 

Augustus. ( Grandly) It’s rather obvious. 

Evadne. Great minds—I didn’t want any¬ 
thing, but he insisted and I -found a little 
wooden pen tray. So he asked the Italian shop¬ 
keeper how much and he said 5 lira and the 
Englishman, knowing how the Italians habitu¬ 
ally overcharge, said too much, and so they 
argued about it. 

Augustus. How amusing. Well, in Na¬ 
ples— 

Evadne. Oh, but that isn’t the point. The 
Englishman to clinch the bargain said, “But it 
is for this lady whose husband has bought so 
much from you,” and the Italian said, “Ah! 
for Madame! I give it her myself.” (G. and 
E. laugh) 

Augustus. That’s ripping. 

Evadne. So few people who tell stories en¬ 
joy hearing them. 

Augustus. Oh I enjoy stories immensely. 

Evadne. That’s because you’re clever. 

Augustus. Oh, no. (Very pleased) Not 

clever. 

Evadne. I always get on so well with clever 
people (Pause), particularly clever men. 

Augustus. You ought to tell that to Mrs. 
Jones. 

Evadne. Your Mother? 

Augustus. No. 




JUNK 


31 


Evadne. Don’t tell me you’re married. 

Augustus. Yes. 

Evadne. Some people are lucky. 

Augustus. You’re a flatterer. ' 

Evadne. ( Laughingly ) I didn’t say who. 

Augustus. ( Promptly ) In Naples, as I 

was saying- 

Muriel. ( And Lucius enter) Oh Eve, 
Spider and Pud have gone to the Club in the 
car. Don’t you want to walk over with us? 

Evadne. Yes indeed. ( Bounces up) 

Lucius. You’re sure it isn’t too hot? 

Evadne. I love it hot. ( Joins Lucius, leav¬ 
ing Muriel by G.) 

Muriel. We started, but came back to tell 
you we were going. We didn’t mean to inter¬ 
rupt. 

Evadne. No, you’re just in time. Get Mr. 
Jones to tell you his Italian story. (L. has gone 
to the door . E. makes quick move and both exit 
r., leaving Muriel and Augustus.) 

Muriel. You tell dialect stories so well. Do 
you speak Italian? 

Augustus. Only enough to get my shoes 
shined. 

Muriel. Oh, I thought bootblacks now were 
Greeks. 

Augustus. Oh, no! The Greeks are bar¬ 
bers. 

Muriel. How do you learn all these things? 
I always say people who live out of town have 
more time to really study and learn. You’re 
really very clever. 

Augustus. You ought to tell that to Mrs. 
Jones. 



32 


JUNK 


Muriel. ( Fishing , ha ha manner ) Every 
mother thinks her boy is clever. 

Augustus. I didn’t mean my Mother. 

Muriel. I see, she doesn’t think it— she 
knows it. 

Augustus. You’re chaffing. I meant my 
Wife. 

Muriel. Are you married? 

Augustus. ( Embarrassed gulp) Yes. 

Muriel. What a pity. 

Augustus. Why!—I- 

Muriel. ( Continuing ) To waste so much 
on one woman. Hadn’t we better join the 
others ? 

Augustus. Oh surely, of course. ( Both 

start for cloor) 

Muriel. (As she exits) This world is so 
full of dull people it’s charming to meet ( They 
leave and off stage you hear) some one really 
alive. Do you know when I first met you, 
etc.—— 


(Pause) 

Maud. (Enters tired and hot with plate of 
sandwiches , lettuce sticking out of the ends, 
Camabert Cheese in its box and a tin box of 
saltines. Radiator knocks a few times, she 
monkeys with valve, looks at carpet tvhere it 
ought to fade. Child voice off left says Mamma, 
she exits quickly left) Yes, dear, etc. 

(Pause) 

Alphonse. (Head comes in door Rt., looks 
all around S., passes him while he's there) 





JUNK 


38 


Sterling. Hullo. 

Alphonse. Who’ye telephoning! 

Sterling. Ah! (Seeing sandwiches) Have 
a sandwich. 

Alphonse. No thanks, I’m too thirsty. 

Sterling. (Has eaten one sandwich, sees 
cheese ) Ah! (A. is gazing out of window at 
the country . S. smells cheese with happy smile, 
but having done so looks unhappy, removes 
cover, smells again, notv very unhappy) Say, 
Spider. 

Alphonse. (Turning) Yo. 

Sterling. Here, smell. (Holds under A ,’s 
nose) 

Alphonse. (Nearly asphyxiated) Uff! 

Sterling. Gone bad. I knew it. (Said 
with conviction) 

Alphonse. If you knew it why in heaven’s 
name did I have to smell it for. I hope you have 
indigestion all night. 

Sterling. Say, you don’t think the maid 
was our hostess. 

Alphonse. If she is I wonder which cos¬ 
tume is the disguise. 

Sterling. Both. 

Alphonse. I wonder what a natural woman 
would be like. 

Sterling. Awful. Even Eve disguised her¬ 
self. (Has replaced cheese cover and cheese on 
table and eats another sandwich while A. takes 
a fan from the mantle and fans himself aivay 
from the cheese odor, occasionally leaning out 
of the window. S. eats another sandwich and 
sits in chair Rt. of table and starts reading 
Sunday paper. Joe enters breezily to A.) 

Jones. Give us a hand. 


34 


JUNK 


(J. and A. remove anything left except chair S. 
is in, table and carpet, Father's picture and 
the Poster. The room is bare. Meanwhile S. 
has finished the last sandwich (There were 
only 6) and, still reading, has obtained a 
cracker which he holds in his hand. Time 
this so on Joe’s last exit he passes S., takes 
cracker from S.’s hand and eats it on way 
out. S. doesn’t realize it’s gone till he places 
his empty fingers to the open mouth and then 
without stopping his reading obtains another 
cracker.) 

(A. and J. converse through this more or less 
impromptu, as follows) 

Alphonse. Your name sake dresses well, 
but I’ll bet he’d never have gotten the props 
over if we hadn’t come. 

Jones He’s a Delaware Jones. They’re all 
lazy. 

Alphonse. For that matter he isn’t getting 
them over now. 

Jones. He’s busy tho’. Entertaining Kit¬ 
ten and Eve permits of no loafing. 

Alphonse. He’ll be a nervous woman by 
sundown. 

Jones. How about the Joe Millers he told. 
Alphonse. I hadn’t heard the Scotch one. 
Jones. The first time I heard that one I 
kicked the foot out of my cradle. 

Alphonse. I kicked the foot out of mine 
the first time I heard that expression. You 
needn’t talk. 

Jones. I got your goat over the windshield, 
didn’t I? 


JUNK 


35 


Alphonse. I sure thought every pane of 
glass in Lakehurst had busted. 

Jones. Do you know that’s tough china; it 
bounced and never busted. 

Alphonse. The china didn’t bust, but look 
at the sidewalk. 

(The last bit has been removed. S. is posing 

with his second cracker . J. stays off R. A. 

enters R.) 

Alphonse. Warm work. Oh for a scuttle 
of suds. 

Sterling. {Looking up quickly) Did you 
say beer? 

Alphonse. Ha, ha! Polly want a schooner! 
You don’t deserve any. You haven’t even done 
any superintending. 

Maud. ( Enters L. quickly) Oh, you’re 
back. {Crossed R. to A. S. lays doivn paper 
reluctantly , sees other two don't notice him , so 
he resumes reading.) 

Alphonse. We’re all done. I hope the show 
is good enough to repay you for our house¬ 
wrecking. 

Maud. Oh, I’m sure it will be wonderful. 
What part do you take. 

Alphonse. Do you know the play? 

Maud. Oh yes, Gus Jones reads the drama 
aloud to us at our fortnightly meetings. 

Alphonse. I’m Dr. Bronson. 

Maud. Why that’s a character part. 

Alphonse. Don’t you think I can do it? 

Maud. Oh, but it must be so hard for you— 
to have to make up so unattractively—why 
don’t you play the lead? 


36 


JUNK 


Alphonse, 'the lead. ( Laughs) I’d much 
rather play Bronson, the lead is just a straight 
part. It’s much harder to play straight. 

Maud. But think how nice it would be for 
the girl who played opposite to you. 

Alphonse. Oh no, she wouldn’t think so. 
I’m a ham at love scenes. 

Maud. I don’t believe it. 

Alphonse. You can bet your last lily cup 
on that. No stage love scenes for mine, but in 
a hammock—oh, boy! 

Maud. Just a minute ( Very kittenish) while 
I gets ours out of the attic. 

Alphonse. No, it’s too hot, and besides I’m 
not dressed for it. 

(L. and E. enter.) 

Evadne. Your Clubhouse is charming. My 
it’s warm. 

Alphonse. Just what I was saying. 

Maud. I envy you your motor. Aren’t those 
big cars very expensive to run? 

Alphonse. That’s not an expensive car. 

Maud. It isn’t? 

Alphonse. No, it’s only $1,650.00. 

Maud. Including the horn? 

Alphonse. Oh yes, complete. 

Lucius. Won’t you sit down? ( Sees no 
chairs available except one S. is sitting in. 
Runs off L.) Excuse me. 

Alphonse. (To M) Wouldn’t you like a 
cocktail? I’ll get the thermos; excuse me. 
(Exit R.) (M. first looked worried, knowing 

they had, no cocktails, then joyous when she 
found he had them.) 



JUNK 


37 


Maud. I’ll get some glasses. ( Passes L. 
coming in L. as she exits. L. places kitchen 
chair, which he obtained , left of table and E. 
sits.) 

Evadne. Oh, thank you. Why you poor 
people, your living room is bare. Why ( Seeing 
portrait of Father) They’ve forgotten the pic¬ 
ture. Joe! Joe! (To L.) It’s such a charm¬ 
ing thing and is just what we need. 

Jones. (Stands in door) What is it? 

Evadne. You forgot this adorable picture. 

Jones. We can’t have it. I’ve got to take 
this last load over. (Fakes a leave) 

Evadne. Oh, what a disappointment. Oh, 
Mr. Bout-tie, it’s such a love of a picture (She 
has it in her hands) , such a dear face, such re¬ 
pose and yet virile strength and yet so charm¬ 
ingly framed. Oh, do let us have it. I per¬ 
sonally promise to see nothing happens to it. 
(Pause) May I have it? (Winning smile) 

Lucius. Of course you can. (E. hands it to 
Joe.) 

Jones. Let’s go. (Takes picture and exit) 

Evadne. (Going back to chair left of table 
and sitting) Oh! it’s so good of you. We’d 
have been lost without that portrait. Like 
people; don’t you know sometimes when you 
first meet them you say to yourself—this is 
real. 

Lucius. That’s my Wife’s Father. 

Evadne. Really! 

(Muriel and G. enter, followed by A. with 

thermos.) 

Muriel. We must be starting, good people, 
it’s very late. 


38 


JUNK 


Lucius. Oh, you’re stopping to have a bite 
with us. Maud has prepared everything. 

Maud. (M. enters with eight cocktail 
glasses on a tray f rom L. arid overhears the last 
remark) Oh, I’m sorry I’ve so little, but such 
as it is your’e welcome to, I’m sure. I made 
some sandwiches. ( Hands tray to Gus c., who 
holds it while A., Rt. of c., pours seven glasses 
half full. Maud then goes for sandwiches and 
sees empty plate; surprise pause) I’m sure I 
made some sandwiches. Lu, didn’t you see some 
sandwiches, or did I leave them in the kitchen? 

Evadne. ( Sees Pud’s guilty face) Pud, 
you’ve eaten them. 

Sterling. I’m awfully sorry. I never 
realized. 

Alphonse. That’s all right, Mrs. Bottie, he 
does the eating for all of us. Hold out your 
good arm everybody. 

Augustus. Save some for yourself. 

Alphonse. Don’t worry, I have. (A. takes 
the eighth glass empty and goes up R. Gus 
passes everyone the tray. Each takes a glass. 
M. is down L. next to the wall. R. of her is E., 
seated, then Pud, seated, then Gus, then 
Muriel r. L. is hack of table.) 

Muriel. ( Calling out) Come on, Joe, get 
your cocktail. 

Lucius. Welcome to Lakehurst. 

Augustus. To the ladies, to the cast, and 
may it be a suspicious occasion. 

Maud. I hope you have everything you need. 

Alphonse. We’ll be back for the roof to¬ 
morrow. 

Maud. Where’s Father’s picture? 


JUNK 


39 


Lucius. All right, dear, I’ll tell you about 
it later. 

Maud. I see. (But she doesn't look it) 

Muriel. Come on, Joe. 

Jones. ( Off stage) Coming. 

Augustus. Oh, you have everything but the 
1880 arm chair you wanted. 

Lucius. Did you get the organ and folding 
bed? 

Sterling. You can hire them if necessary; 
we did. 

Lucius. What did it cost, if you don’t mind 
my asking. 

Sterling. Including transportation, $ 80 . 00 . 

Lucius. (Looks at Gus) $80.00. Cheap 
enough. 

Augustus. Let me see what I can do during 
the week. Now, about this funny chair just 
what do you mean? 

Muriel. Oh, funny plush with some awful 
design or, say, tufted leather. 

Evadne. A tricky one with rockers or 
springs. 

Alphonse. A Houdini. One that’s hard to 
get out of. 

Sterling. Oh, we want the worst chair you 
ever saw. 

Jones. Well, well, sorry. ( Enters R. takes 
last cocktail from tray) 

Augustus. (To A.) Sure you’ve got some 
left? (All look at A., who fills his own glass to 
the brim) 

Jones. (Loudly and very happily) Hot 
dog! (All look at him. He is looking at the 
chair PUD is in) That’s the chair for us in the 


40 


JUNK 


funny scene. (Embavrassed pause. A. sits on 
radiator) 

Alphonse. (Lifting the gloom, glass in one 
hand, thermos in the other) Well, here’s mud 
in your eye. (All drink. G. faces left and 
obviously drinks to E., when he suddenly sees 
Maud, just beyond E., is watching him. He 
nearly chokes. All finish together. J. is centre 
Rt. of Gus. Pause. Radiator gives tivo loud quar¬ 
ter tones and one half tone. A. rises quickly.) 

Maud. Oh, that’s only water in the pipes. 
Don’t mind it. 

Alphonse. I mind the heat. (Sets thermos 
on mantle and feels trousers) 

Jones. (Looking at him) Huh, you look 
like a grilled steak. 

(E. and S. place glasses on table and rise. M. 

and L. place glasses on table. Gus collects the 

rest and places tray on mantle.) 

Evadne. We must be going. It’s so nice to 
have met you. (Everyone says “Goodbye,” “So 
nice,” “See you Saturday.” Everyone shakes 
hands and go by Mrs. B. as if at a reception. 
They pass R. to L. down front to Maud, then up 
L. and along the back to Exit R. All leave ex¬ 
cept Gus and Maud and Muriel. Lucius is 
outside seeing them away. M. is left, G. is cen¬ 
tre, Muriel between them.) 

Muriel. Goodbye, so good of you to help us. 

Maud. I wish you weren’t going. 

Muriel. Oh, we must under the circs. (She 
crosses G. to R., saying) Goodbye, Mr. Jones. 

Augustus.- I’m going to the main road with 
you. 


JUNK 


41 


Muriel. Thanks a lot. (A winning smile 
and exits R. Gus follows. As he gets to door) 
Maud. Where are you going? 

Augustus. To show them the short cut to 
the turnpike. 

Maud. Couldn’t they find that by them¬ 
selves? They managed to get out here pretty 
well. 

Augustus. I promised Mrs. Peabody to 
show them. 

Maud. That woman. 

Augustus. I’ll be back in a few minutes. 
Maud. Come back all you want, 1 won’t be 
here. 

Augustus. Where are you going? 

Maud. Crazy. {Voice off of Mrs. Peabody) 
Evadne. Oh, Mr. Jones. 

Augustus. Coming. (Exit) 

Maud. (Sits in chair left looking out and 
expressing the word “Damn”) 

(Voices off of goodbyes, etc., and Lucius enters, 
closes door, closes window, takes out pipe, 
looks for jar of tobacco — it's gone. Examines 
cheese, covers it hastily. Looks around. Eats 
a cracker, but it is very dry. Picks up paper, 
sits Rt. and reads. Maud never moves, but 
wistfully says) 

Maud. I wish we had a car. (The child up¬ 
stairs calls mamma. The radiator clicks once, 
a pause, then twice, then a pause, and a loud 
one. Lucius looks up. The worm has turned. 
He never moves a muscle, but says convinc¬ 
ingly) 

Lucius. DAMN. 

(Curtain) 
































/ 















BILLETED. 

A comedy in 3 acts, by F. Tennison Jesse and H. Harwood. 4 
males, 5 females. One easy interior scen°. A charming comedy, 
constructed with uncommon skill, and abounds with clever lines. 
Margaret Anglin’s big success. Amateurs will find this comedy easy 
to produce and popular with all audiences. Price, 60 Cents. 


NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. 

A comedy in 3 acts. By James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. 
Costumes, modern. Two interior scenes. Plays 2^2 hours. 

Is it possible to tell the absolute truth—even for twenty-four hours? 
It is—at least Bob Bennett, the hero of “Nothing But the Truth,” 
accomplished the feat. The bet he made with his business partners, 
and the trouble he got into—with his partners, his friends, and his 
fiancee—this is the subject of William Collier’s tremendous comedy 
hit. “Nothing But the Truth” can be whole-heartedly recommended 
as one of the most sprightly, amusing and popular comedies that this 
country cv\ boast. Price, 60 Cents, 


IN WALKED JIMMY. 

A comedy in 4 acts, by Minnie Z. Jaffa. 10 males, '? females (al¬ 
though any number of males and females may be used as clerks, 

etc.). Two interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Plays 2^ hours. 

The thing into which Jimmy walked was a broken-down slioe factory, 

when the clerks had all been fired, and when the proprietor was in 

serious contemplation of suicide. 

Jimmy, nothing else but plain Jimmy, would have been a mysterious 
figure had it not been for his matter-of-fact manner, his smile and 
his everlasting humanness. He put the shoe business on its feet, won 
the heart of tbe girl clerk, saved her erring brother from jail, escaped 
that place as a permanent boarding house himself, and foiled the 
villain. 

Clean, wholesome comedy with just a touch of human nature, just 
a dash of excitement and more than a little bit of true philosophy 
make “In Walked Jimmy” one of the most delightful of plays. 
Jimmy is full of the religion of life, the religion of happiness and 
the religion of helpfulness, and he so permeates the atmosphere with 
his “religion” that everyone is happy. The spirit of optimism, good 
cheer, and hearty laughter dominates the play. There is not a dull 
moment in any of the four acts. We strongly recommend it. 

Price, 60 Cents. 


MARTHA BY-THE-DAY. 

An optimistic comedy in three acts, by Julie M. Lippmann, author 
of the “Martha” stories. 5 males, 5 females. Three interior scenes. 
Costumes modern. Plays 2J< hours. 

It is altogether a gentle th.ng, this play. It is full of quaint hu¬ 
mor, old-fashioned, homely sentiment, the kind that people who see 
the play will recall and chuckle over to-morrow and the next day. 

Miss Lippmann has herself adapted her very successful book for 
stage service, and in doing this has selected from her novel the most 
telling incidents, infectious comedy and homely sentiment for the 
play, and the result is thoroughly delightful. Price, 60 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 We.t 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 




DOROTHY’S NEIGHBORS. 

A brand new comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of “The 
New Co-Ed,” “Tempest and Sunshine,” and many other successful 
plays. 4 males, 7 females. The scenes are extremely easy to 
arrange; two plain interiors and one exterior, a garden, or, if neces¬ 
sary, the two interiors will answer. Costumes modern. Plays 2 
hours. 

The story is about vocational training, a subject now widely dis¬ 
cussed; also, the distribution of large wealth. 

Back of the comedy situation and snappy dialogue there is good 
logic and a sound moral in this pretty play, which is worthy the 
attention of the experienced amateur. It is a clean, wholesome play, 
particularly suited to high school production, Price, 30 Cents. 


MISS SOMEBODY ELSE. 

A modern play in four acts by Marion Short, author of “The 
Touchdown,” etc. 6 males, 10 females. Two interior scenes. Cos¬ 
tumes modern. Plays 2 l /\ hours. 

This delightful comedy has gripping dramatic moments, unusual 
character types, a striking and original plot and is essentially modern 
in theme and treatment. The story concerns the advetures of Con¬ 
stance Darcy, a multi-millionaire’s young daughter. Constance em¬ 
barks on a trip to find a young man who had been in her father’s 
employ and had stolen a large sum of money. She almost succeeds, 
when suddenly all traces of the young man are lost. At this point 
she meets some old friends who are living in almost want and, in 
order to assist them through motives benevolent, she determines to 
sink her own aristocratic personality in that of a refined but humble 
little Irish waitress with the family that are in want. She not only 
carries her scheme to success in assisting the family, but finds 
romance and much tense and lively adventure during the period of 
her incognito, aside from capturing the young man who had defrauded 
her father. The story is full of bright comedy lines and dramatic 
situations and is highly recommended for amateur production. This 
is one of the best comedies we have ever offered with a large num¬ 
ber of female characters. The dialogue is bright and the play is full 
of action from start to finish; not a dull moment in it. This is a 
great comedy for high schools and colleges, and the wholesome story 
will please the parents and teachers. We strongly recommend it. 

Price, 30 Cents. 


PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

An exceptionally pretty comedy of Puritan New England, in three 
acts, by Amita B. Fairgrieve and Helena Miller. 9 male, 5 female 
characters. 

This is the Lend A Hand Smith College prize play. It is an ad¬ 
mirable play for amateurs, is rich in character portrayal of varied 
types and is not too difficult while thoroughly pleasing. 

Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Tree on Request 



The Touch-Down 

A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, but 
any number of characters can be introduced in the ensembles. Cos¬ 
tumes modern. One interior scene throughout the play. Time, 2 l / 2 
hours. 

This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the story of 
life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co-educational college. It deals with 
the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football Eleven, and 
the humorous and dramatic incidents connected therewith. 

“The Touch-Down” has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs 
are sung, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High 
schools will make no mistake in producing this play. We strongly 
recommend it as a high-class and well-written comedy. 

Price, 30 Cents. 

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry 

A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. 5 males, 4 females. 
One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2)4 hours. 

The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates 
that her pretty niece must be affianced before she is twent 3 r -one, and 
married to her fiance within a year, if she is to get her spinster 
relative’s million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell 
daughter about the will, so that she may make her choice untram¬ 
meled by any other consideration than that of true love. The action 
all takes place in the evening the midnight of which will see her 
reach twenty-one. Time is therefore short, and it is hurry, hurry, 
hurry, if she is to become engaged and thus save her father from 
impending bankruptcy. 

The situations are intrinsically funny and the dialogue is sprightly. 
The characters are natural and unaffected and the action moves with 
a snap such as should be expected from its title. Price, 30 Cents. 

The Varsity Coach 

A three-act play of college life, by Marion Short, specially adapted 
to performance by amateurs or high school students. 5 males 6 
females, but any number of boys and girls may be introduced in the 
action of the play. Two settings necessary, a college boy’s room and 
the university campus. Time, about 2 hours. 

Like many another college boy, “Bob” Selby, an all-round popular 
college man, becomes possessed of the idea that athletic prowess is 
more to be desired than scholarship. He is surprised in the midst of 
a “spread” in his room in Regatta week by a visit from his aunt 
who is putting him through college. Aunt Serena, “a lady of the old 
school and the dearest little woman in the whole world,” has hastened 
to make this visit to her adored nephew under the mistaken impression 
that he is about to receive the Fellowes prize for scholarship. Her 
grief and chagrin when she learns that instead of the prize Robert 
has received “a pink card,” which is equivalent to suspension for poor 
scholarship, gives a touch of pathos to an otherwise jolly comedy of 
college life. How the repentant Robert more than redeems himself, 
carries off honors at the last, and in the end wins Ruth, the faithful 
little sweetheart of the “Prom” and the classroom, makes a story of 
dramatic interest and brings out very clearly certain phases of modern 
college life. There are several opportunities for the introduction of 
college songs and “stunts.” Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New Yotk City 
New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free oe Request 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


The Return of Hi juik.s 


A cornedv in ft ur acts, by Marion Short, author of 1 he \ arsity 
Coach.” “the Touch-Down,” etc. 6 males, 8 females. Costumes 
modern. One interior scene. 


This comedy h founded upon and elaborated from a farce comedy 
in two acts written by J. H. Horta, and originally produced at Tuft’s 
College. 

Hiram Foynter Jinks, a Junior in Hoosic College (Willie Collier 
type), and a young moving picture actress (Mary Pickford type), are 
the leading characters in this lively, modern farce. 

Thomas Hodge, a Senior, envious of the popularity of Jinks, wishes 
to think up a scheme to throw ridicule upon him during a visit of 
the Hoosic Glee Club to Jinks’s home town. Jinks has obligingly acted 
.is a one-day substitute in a moving picture play, in which there is a 
fire scene, and this gives Hodge his cue. He sends what seems to 
oe a bona fide account of Jink’s heroism at a Hoosic fire to Jink's 
home paper. Instead of repudiating his laurels as expected. Jinks 
decides to take a llyer in fame, confirms the fake story, confesses to 
being a hero and is adored by all the girls, to the chagrin and dis¬ 
comfiture of Hodge. Of course, the truth comes out at last, but 
Jinks is not hurt thereby, and his romance with Mimi Mayflower 
comes to a successful termination. 

This is a great comedy for amateurs. It is full of funny situations 
and is sure to please. Price, 30 Cents. 


0 017 401 417 6 I 




















A most successful comedy-drama in four acts, by Marie Doran, 
author of “The New Co-Ed,” “Tempest and Sunshine,” “Dorothy’s 
Neighbors,” etc. 4 males, 8 females. One interior scene. Costumes 
modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

This play has a very interesting group of young people. June is 
an appealing little figure, an orphan living with her aunt. There are 
a number of delightful, life-like characters: the sorely tried likeable 
Mrs. Hopkins, the amusing, haughty Miss Banks of the glove depart¬ 
ment, the lively Tilly and Milly, who work in the store, and ambitious 
Snoozer; Mrs. Hopkins’s only son, who aspires to be President of the 
United States, but finds his real sphere is running the local trolley 
car. The play is simplicity itself in the telling of an every-day story, 
and the scenic requirements call for only one set, a room in the 
boarding house of Mrs. Hopkins, while an opportunity is afforded to 
introduce any number of extra characters. Musical numbers may be 
introduced, if desired. Price, 30 Cents. 




Tempest and Sunshine 

A comedy drama in four acts, by Marie Doran. 5 males and 3 
females. One exterior and three interior scenes. Plays about 2 hour? 

Every school girl has revelled in the sweet simplicity and gentle 
ness of the characters interw-oven in the charms that Mary J. Holme! 
commands in her story of “Tempest and Sunshine.” We can strong! 
recommend this play as one of the best plays for high school pr< 
duction published in recent years. Price, 30 Cent- 

(The Above Are Subject tc Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 




















